


1x03 - Kandahar

by BooksAreLife221



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: 1x03, Drugged!Frank, Exhausted!Frank, Frank Castle - Freeform, Gen, Kandahar, Lieberman, Micro, The Punisher, exhausted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAreLife221/pseuds/BooksAreLife221
Summary: SPOILERS for episode 1x03“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Lieberman said in a calming voice. “Easy now, Frank.”Ignoring him, Frank glanced around before he slowly sat up. Sitting up was a bad idea, he realized as his vision blurred and the room spun in circles around him. As he attempted to stand his legs, still weak from the drug, failed to hold his weight causing him to crash to the floor.





	1x03 - Kandahar

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is based off of Season 1 Episode 3 of The Punisher. Focuses on the scene where Lieberman drugs Frank. I hope you enjoy it!

Frank jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest, and instinctively reached for his pistol. Closing his calloused hands around the cool metal, his eyes scanned the room as he tried to shake off his lingering exhaustion. It had been days since he had last slept, even then he had only managed to sleep a few hours at a time before nightmares would inevitably wake him.

  
Finding no immediate danger, Frank relaxed slightly, his eyes blinking tiredly.

  
“Happy Birthday, Frank.” Lieberman said quietly.

  
Raising his tired eyes, Frank turned his attention fully on the man across from him. Lieberman remained the same as Frank had last seen him, hands bound firmly to the chair arms and not wearing a stitch of clothing.

  
“It’s the fifteenth. Happy Birthday.”

  
Frank sighed in exasperation and released his hold on the gun, leaning forward he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed head, his short hair scratching slightly against his hand.

  
“I know all there is to know.” Lieberman continued calmly. “Hey. If you cut me loose, I’ll buy you a cake.”

  
Rubbing a hand down his face, Frank rubbed his burning eyes and pinched his nose, attempting to calm the slight pounding in his head.

  
“Come on.” Lieberman wheedled. “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.”

  
Placing his head in his hands, Frank massaged his head as his headache increased with Lieberman’s insistence. Giving it up as a lost cause he lowered his hands and stared at Lieberman as he continued his spiel.

  
“You know, sooner or later you’re gonna have to, uh, get me something to drink or eat. Or kill me.” Frank turned away. “What’s it gonna be?”

  
The alarm blared, immediately gaining Frank’s attention. Giving a sharp exhale he stood and walked over to Lieberman, grabbing the back of his chair he pulled him toward the station of computers. “You never should have come after me, Lieberman.”

  
“I didn’t have a choice.” Lieberman answered determinedly. “They took our families from us.”

  
Frank scoffed in disbelief. “Jesus. That’s such bullshit.” He pulled out his knife. “Your family’s alive. Mine’s gone.” Frank leaned down and cut the zip tie on Lieberman’s left wrist. “You threw yours away.” Placing the cut zip tie and the knife on the table Frank turned back to Lieberman. “You had a choice. I didn’t.” Grabbing the back of the chair Frank pushed him roughly toward the keyboard.

  
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Maybe someday you’re gonna believe it.” Lieberman shook his head sadly. “You know, you and I both thought we were serving our country. We both thought that.”

  
“Type the code.” Frank growled.

  
Lieberman continued angrily. “And now if I go home, I get my family killed. You know, you and I together, we could change that.”

  
“Type the code.” Frank repeated, pointing at the keyboard.

  
Lieberman started typing, using an ink pen to hit the keys. Leaning forward he put his eye in front of the scanner. The alarm stopped.

  
Frank pulled the chair back and turned it around, away from the computer. Grabbing a new zip tie he leaned down and started to fasten it to Lieberman’s wrist. Feeling a sudden sharp pain in his arm, Frank stumbled back, holding his arm in surprise. Letting go of his still throbbing arm he stepped forward angrily and wrapped his hand around Lieberman’s throat. Reaching up with his free left hand, Lieberman shoved him away easily, the drug already kicking in.

  
Frank staggered back, the room spinning around him. Groaning slightly, Frank leaned his back heavily against a desk, struggling to fight the drug. Falling to the floor he gave a small gasp, the room blurring around him. As his vision darkened he felt himself slowly slide down to the floor, his head suddenly touching cold concrete. Fighting to stay awake he glared up at Lieberman as he leaned down.

  
“I’m sorry, Frank.”

  
Despite Frank’s struggle his eyes slowly slipped closed.

  
…..

  
Sighing, Lieberman rolled his chair away from Frank’s now unconscious body and toward his desk. Putting his drug filled pen down he reached for Frank’s knife and cut his other arm free. Rubbing his wrist he looked down at Frank sadly. He felt kinda bad for drugging him like that, especially considering how worn down he looked, but it was necessary unless he wanted to remain tied to a chair for God knows how long.

  
Standing from his chair, Lieberman decided his first course of action should be searching for clothes. After throwing on some clothes, he went back to Frank. Frank was still sprawled on the floor, his breathing slow and deep.

  
Deciding he couldn’t just leave him on the floor, Lieberman reached down and grabbed his booted feet. Grunting in exertion he slowly dragged him over to his bed, taking care to not knock him into anything on the way. Wishing that Frank weighed a bit less he leaned down and attempted to get him up on the bed.

  
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Lieberman sighed in relief. After great deals of effort and considerable amounts of swearing he had finally managed to get Frank up on the bed. Despite all the tugging and pulling, Frank hadn’t stirred once. Lieberman knew better than most how strong the tranquilizer was and he knew that, while it was strong, it shouldn’t have been nearly so effective or fast acting on a man of Frank’s considerable size.

  
The only way the drug would have acted so quickly was if he was injured or exhausted, causing his body to not fight it as effectively as it normally would. It wasn’t difficult for Lieberman to figure out which it was. The dark rings around Frank’s eyes made the answer obvious, as did his behavior prior to being drugged.

  
While Frank was a master at hiding things he didn’t want seen, Lieberman was a master at uncovering what others wanted hidden. It was how he recognized the silent struggle against sleep Frank had made nearly all night.

  
Frank had hidden it well at first, his adrenaline keeping him alert. He had paced around the room, searching for hidden weapons or explosives. Once done with his search he had turned his full attention to Lieberman. He had questioned him, threatened him, and tried to intimidate him. However, after awhile he had started to relax, his adrenaline quickly disappearing.

  
When his adrenaline left so did his energy, he had stopped his incessant pacing and questions and had instead sat in a chair across from Lieberman’s. Frank had glared at him silently, leaning back in the chair. In time his glare relaxed as his focus drifted. His head started nodding, his eyes fluttering shut before he would startle awake and straighten up in his chair. After a few rounds of this he eventually lost the battle, sinking back into the chair as his eyes slid closed.

  
He had remained that way until shortly before the alarm started up.

  
Lieberman gazed at Frank with concern clear in his eyes, hoping that getting some sleep (even if it was drug induced) would help him. He seemed like a good guy, a little violent maybe (okay a lot violent) but still good. Hearing his stomach growl, Lieberman decided to scrounge up some food, maybe he’d make some coffee for Frank while he was at it.

  
….

 

The sound of a liquid being poured and cups rattling slowly filtered through the sludge Frank’s brain had become. As he became more aware the rich smell of coffee greeted his nose, causing his empty stomach to rumble slightly in protest. Opening his eyes he became aware of a cold weight on his chest, looking down he found his pistol. Hearing a cup rattle again he turned his head toward the sound in confusion. Spotting Lieberman he quickly turned back to his gun, picking it up he checked it. Finding the gun fully loaded with no tampering he could see, caused his confusion to grow as he cocked it.

  
“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Lieberman said in a calming voice. “Easy now, Frank.”

  
Ignoring him, Frank glanced around before he slowly sat up. Sitting up was a bad idea, he realized as his vision blurred and the room spun in circles around him. As he attempted to stand his legs, still weak from the drug, failed to hold his weight causing him to crash to the floor. Dazed, Frank struggled to his feet, forcing his legs to hold his weight as he leaned heavily against a cabinet. Bracing himself against the cabinet he kept his gun pointed at Lieberman as he walked further into the room.

  
“Why don’t you sit down?” Lieberman suggested kindly. “Have a cup of coffee. Come on.” Lieberman slowly put a cup of coffee on the bedside table. “Time to choose.” He said before popping a handful of peanuts in his mouth.

  
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Frank managed to ask, confused.

  
Lieberman sat down in a chair across from the bed.. “Oh, my God, man. You didn’t listen to anything that I said?”

  
Frank, his legs shaking with the effort of keeping him upright, abruptly sat down on the bed, the room still spinning in slow circles around him. Panting slightly, he struggled to focus his heavy eyes on Lieberman.

  
“Oh, my God. You gotta be the most stubborn….” Lieberman chuckled in disbelief. “Why didn’t I kill you? Jesus.” He said, shaking his head.

  
“The codes.” Frank suddenly remembered, starting to panic.

  
Lieberman shook his head dismissively. “Turned that off.”

  
Frank squinted at him, confused.

  
“You know, it’s like you said.” Lieberman continued. “Routines, right? Patterns.”

  
Realization dawned on Frank, hanging his head he muttered. “Jesus Christ.”

  
“They lull us into a sense of, uh, normality, a sense of security.” Lieberman informed calmly. “We cease to question. Even somebody like you.”

  
Frank rubbed his head, the drug had caused his slight headache to evolve into a near migraine. “You’re an asshole.”

  
Lieberman ignored him. “You know, these men that, uh, tried to kill us, they have patterns. Patterns that don’t, uh, involve you and me.” Popping another peanut in his mouth, Lieberman shrugged. “I mean, they think we’re dead.”

  
Straitening up, Frank looked him dead in the eyes. “Lieberman, I don’t do partners.”

  
“Get over yourself. There’s no place for emotion here, you know.” Lieberman shook his head. “You and me have both done things that we would like to take back. We can’t. But we’re not the bad guys here, they are. Right?”

  
Frank sat in silence, memories flooding his mind. Of the war. Of his worst mission, the mission that nearly got his whole team killed.

  
Lieberman seemed to know what he was remembering, a hint of sympathy entering his eyes.. “You could have ended it all that night. You didn’t, and then they killed your family. You have to live with that. But this war that you’re waging, I mean, come on. That’s the US military. That is the CIA.” He shook his head. “You just got rolled over by one spook zip-tied to an office chair, here. I mean, I thought I needed you, but you need me just as bad.”

  
Frank stayed quiet, looking away.

  
“Look.” Lieberman said, standing up and pointing toward his computers. “I spent months and months hacking into every agency and their server. Phone companies, police departments, it doesn’t matter. Anything they can throw at us, I can throw it right back at ‘em. I’ve been getting ready for you, Frank.”

  
“What does that mean?” Frank asked, his brows furrowed.

  
“What does that mean? It means that every missile needs a guidance system. Okay?” Lieberman explained, his face red in frustration.

  
Frank shook his head in disbelief and scoffed. “Oh, Jesus Christ."

  
Lieberman ignored him. “Without me, you’re just a blunt instrument.”

  
Frank scoffed.

  
“Yeah, blow me off. Yeah. Do it. Blow me off. That’s right.” Lieberman said, irritation clear in his voice.

  
Shaking his head, Frank stood, only to fall forward into the cabinet when his knees started to buckle.

  
“Damn it.” He muttered darkly, bracing himself against the cabinet.

  
Lieberman stared at him his face pinched in irritation, grabbing his office chair he slid it over to Frank. “Sit down.”

  
Frank waved him off.

  
“Get in.”

  
Frank stayed against the cabinet, glaring at the chair.

  
“Don’t be proud.” Lieberman said, gesturing toward the chair. “Get in. I want to show you something. Come on. Get in.”

  
Frank got in, cursing the whole time.

  
Once Frank was settled, Lieberman grabbed the back and pushed it toward his computers while Frank sighed and lifted his legs to allow the chair to move.

  
“You know, that heroin was just financing for something else.” Lieberman said, pushing the chair next to his computers. Leaning down he pulled up a file. “Your Operation Cerberus doesn’t exist. There’s no official record. There’s no congressional approval.”

  
Frank put his head in his hands, his frustration building along with the pounding in his head.

  
“It’s totally off the books. You know what that means?” Lieberman asked. “They turned you into a hit man, Frank. Now, I don’t care if we trust each other or not.” He declared. “I don’t wanna be blood brothers. That stuff is for kids in tree houses. But you and me, we want the same thing right now. So work with me.”

  
Frank considered him silently for a moment. “One condition.”

  
“Yeah, name it.”

  
“They die. Yeah?” Frank turned to look at him. “Every single one of ‘em. No trials. No bullshit. They die.”

  
Lieberman turned away, his eyes wide in surprise as he considered the condition.

  
After a moment he turned back towards Frank and nodded slightly. “Yeah, I can live with that.”

  
…..

  
Once Lieberman had agreed to the terms Frank had stayed quiet while Lieberman tapped away at a keyboard. After a while had passed and Frank had remained silent, Lieberman turned around to check on him.

  
Frank was bent over with his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. He looked pretty awful in Lieberman’s opinion, though being informed that the military had used you as an assassin was probably enough to make anyone look a little worse for wear and that’s not even taking into account him being drugged not ten minutes before.

  
Eyeing Frank in consideration, Lieberman stood up and went to the kitchen. Pouring a cup of coffee he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. After checking the dosages on the back he shook it out into his hand. Grabbing the cup of coffee he went back to Frank.

  
“Here. This should help with your headache.” He said, setting the pills and coffee on the desk in front of Frank.

  
Frank straightened up and eyed the pills wearily, eventually he shrugged reaching for the pills. Popping them in his mouth he reached for the coffee, nodding his thanks as he washed the pills down.

  
Lieberman went to turn away, plans to check over his computer systems already running through his mind, when he heard a noise coming from Frank. Freezing slightly, he heard it again. Quickly realizing it was Frank’s stomach growling he changed his plans and headed back into the kitchen.

  
After looting through his cabinets, the best meal he was able to scrounge up was a bowl of cereal and some room temperature milk. Deciding it was better than nothing he shrugged, heading back to Frank. Placing the bowl in front of Frank, he backed off and sat down in a spare chair, his fingers flying across the keyboard in minutes.

  
Sneaking glances at Frank out of the corner of his eye he saw the surprise and then suspicion that crossed his face as he examined the food.“Getting something in your stomach might help the drug leave your system faster.” When Frank didn’t start eating, Lieberman sighed in exasperation. “If I wanted to poison you I would have done it while you were unconscious.”

  
Whether it was his reassurances or Frank’s stomach that finally made up his mind, Lieberman wasn’t sure but Frank slowly picked up his spoon and started to eat. Satisfied, Lieberman turned back to his computer.

  
….

  
Once he had finished checking his security systems, Lieberman rolled his stiff shoulders and glanced back at Frank. He had managed to eat all of the cereal and even drank the leftover milk, he now had the coffee in his hands but didn’t appear to be drinking it as his head was tipped back against the top of the office chair, his eyes closed. As Lieberman was watching him the cup started to tilt forward, jumping up he walked over and gently plucked it from Frank’s slack hands, preventing it from spilling and placed it on the desk.

  
Turning toward Frank he called to him softly, not wanting to startle him. “Frank.” His face twitched slightly. “Frank, come on, man. Wake up a sec.” Leaning forward, Lieberman gently shook his shoulder.

  
Stirring, Frank opened bleary eyes and looked around the room in a slight daze. Seeing Lieberman he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus.

  
“Wha’?” He asked, his voice like gravel and still half-asleep. “What’s wrong?”

  
“Nothing, I just thought you’d be more comfortable on a bed instead of a chair, less chance of falling on your ass.”

  
Frank shook his head, blinking rapidly. “I’m fine.” He managed before yawning widely.

  
Lieberman smirked slightly. “Oh, I’m sure. But I think you’d be even better if you laid down.” Shaking his head, Lieberman continued. “The drug won’t completely leave your system for awhile yet. It’d be best to just sleep it off.”

  
Ignoring Frank’s slurred protests that he was fine, he grabbed the back of the chair and rolled it toward the bed. Frank stood as soon as the chair stopped moving, still insisting that he was fine. Standing was a bad idea, his legs buckled as soon as he put weight on them and he fell forward. He would have hit the ground if Lieberman hadn’t caught him in time, his reflexes dulled with the tranquilizer and sleep deprivation.

  
Holding Frank up, Lieberman pushed him toward the bed, forcing him to sit down. He gave Frank’s shoulders a gentle shove, causing him to fall back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor.

  
The drug still circulating in his system along with his stomach being comfortably full for the first time in days, caused sleep to tug at Frank, his eyes fluttering shut.

  
While Frank dozed, Lieberman bent down and started to take off his boots. Once done he picked his legs up and placed them up on the bed. Frank muttered slightly with the movement, starting to sit up. Lieberman pushed him back down and threw a blanket over him.

  
Frank settled again, practically melting into the bed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
